Players and Pawns : The Origin
by Daniel Jay
Summary: Set after 'The Onslaught'. Buffy and company deal with the aftermath of the Daywalker's attack.


Seth was an immortal demon. He wasn't sure what species he'd be qualified as, by the humans that is. He sure never read about his kind in any of their books. A few hints at his kind's existence, but nothing concrete. He could say the same for Jael. Jael, Kravyoa, Hersim, whatever name he was referred to at the time, he was evil. Then again, Jael was the name he gave himself. The rest were adopted by his worshipers. Different civilizations that chose to worship the most indestructible creature that ever graced this land.

They were fools.

Jael may have been kind to his own, but he cared nothing for those who he believed were below him. The weak, the mortals, those who chose to have opinions of their own. Even if you decided to abide by his ordinance he would kill you without a second thought. Demons were usually like that.

Now was his time. Jael would strike and there was nothing Seth could do about it, or nothing that he cared to do. His existence was boring. He wanted to fight, to join the Slayer, the vampires, and the Vymri Cerln. 

This job sucks, Seth thought. Why couldn't they send Whistler to come deal with these people? Probably be grumpier that a hungry bear. 

Being cryptic was the worst. You'd have to tell half-truths, never telling them everything you know. In this case, he didn't know much. Nobody did. Only the boys at the very top of the chain knew what the other one was; the one named Liam. And only they knew what was going to happen. 

The end of all reality? It could happen from what he'd been told. The end of heaven, hell, everything in-between, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be pretty. 

Now was his time to enter the game. He would tell the adversaries everything he could. Hopefully, it would help them prepare for the battle ahead. Besides, he was told of another who knew the secret of Jael, some unseen player. She would be of more help to them than he ever could be.

But this all troubled him. Jael was sick and planned ahead several thousand years. He wasn't your usually power-hungry titan. He possessed an actual sense of remorse for some of his actions. That left him unpredictable. His moves were calculated in some areas, idiotic in the next. Some sick game he decided to play with himself, maybe? Could he have possible anticipated all these forces rallying around him? Was he merely raising their hopes only to dash them at the last second?

God, I hope not. 

Seth was left with a sinking feeling that he was wrong. That Jael was more cunning than he seemed.

Little did anyone know that one final surprise would be waiting for Jael. One final surprise that would decide the fate of everyone and prove Buffy's prophecy to be true. Depends on how you interpret it, though.

* * * *

Willow cried and cried and cried. Her baby was gone. He was gone, just like his father.

"Willow?"

"Get away from me!" she screamed. Sarah recoiled, hurt by this attack but she did understand it. Any mother would. "Just go away," she whimpered. Her voice was nearly cracking. "I want to be alone right now."

Sarah saw the pain in her daughter's eyes and realized she could do nothing. She kissed her on the forehead; something done many times in the past to ease her ache, and then left the room. The sound of the door clicking shut left a deafening silence upon Willow, only adding to her hurt.

It shouldn't be quiet now. I should be hearing my son. 

Willow felt a deep seeded rage flare in her. She kicked the thick skin of blanket and sheets off her legs and onto the floor. It was the only object around so it would have to do. It didn't help. 

Another impulse hit her. She wanted to scream "fuck" louder than she ever did in her 19 years on this planet. Fuck you, god. Fuck you, world. Fuck you, PERIOD! She bit her lip and held it in. It would only drawn attention and cause them to come running in. The sight of another human being would do nothing but anger her. A vicious cycle doomed to repeat itself.

"Fuck I hate this planet," she hissed, barely audible. "I hate you all. I hate you all for taking everything away from me. I hate you for leaving me alone."

She curled her knees and brought her legs against her chest. The air had a chill that battered her barely protected skin. She set her chin down on her knees and closed her eyes, hoping this was all a nightmare.

In the darkness, she was greeted by images of a future not lived. She saw herself one, two, five, many years in the future, all in a single second. The first year would be her son's first birthday. She planned on buying him the biggest cake she could find. His name written into the frosting and decorated with some elaborate design. She wouldn't let him eat any, though. It would be bad for his teeth. No… Buffy and Xander could easily dispose of the sweet. He could just try and blow out the candles and experience a day in celebration of him.

Of course he would grow up, and she intended to be there for each and every birthday. No clowns, there would be no clowns for his later parties. A pale man dressed in bright colors and a big red nose would not be the image she wanted in her son's dreams. Xander had many nightmares after a similar incident. 

She could see past his childhood, but the paths were so vast and assorted that she couldn't focus upon a single one. What would he be? Smart, if he received the genes from his parents. It was a likely scenario. Would he be anything like his father? Quiet but sweet and a genus in the academic sense. And what would he want to be? It was a question she couldn't guess upon.

She heard a familiar click that rose her from her thoughts. The noise of the hallway could be heard. The police were still outside, questioning people about the incident and the supposed death coinciding.

Couldn't find their asses if they were given a map. 

The thought was uncharacteristically Willow. Though, an unintentional smirk grew across her lips. Sometimes it's good to be bad.

"Hello," the male nurse said, pushing a large cart. "It's pretty crowded out there. Something big must have happened."

He doesn't know. 

"Haven't been on shift long have you?" Willow asked, devoid of bitterness.

"Just came in 10 minutes ago. One of the nurses got smacked across the face so they called me in. Haven't even had time to change my uniform," he said, pointing at his clothes. "As soon as I got here they said, 'Go give the girl in room 135 some food!' So here I am."

The nurse stopped the cart and walked to the movable tray sitting at the side of the room. He pulled it out from the corner and pushed it over to the bed.

"So," he said, lifting the tray of food from the cart. "What did you hear about the situation outside?

"Nothing," Willow responded. "The nurses had me doped up on sedatives so I missed the entire thing." She purposely misread the question. "All the other patients were either sleeping, scared, or just didn't do anything when all the noise started."

"Probably for the best," the nurse said.

"Probably," Willow said also. Not that she agreed. Her opinions of the other patients of this hospital were equal to that of a maggot. 

Willow set her clothed legs down again when the nurse brought the table over the bed and over her lap. The food was sitting on top, housed in a plastic container.

"You cold?" he asked. "I noticed your blanket on the floor."

"Perfectly fine," she answered. "Found it a little hot is all."

"Okay. Well, call us if you need anything," the nurse said. He moved back to the cart and went back out into the hallway. The police were still out and about, but their numbers were less. Willow found herself alone, again.

"A pleasant distraction," she said removing the top off the tray. She strained to keep her voice pleasant for the visitor, now it echoed her mood, sour and dismayed. 

Her eyes grazed the assortment of foods. There were mashed potatoes, roast beef, gravy, vegetables, and jello. It was holding the top over the tray that a piece of paper fell down and into the dry meat. It was an envelope. Written in a dark black marker was the name, "Willow Rosenberg", labeling the container. Willow set down the top and picked up the object. It had a single piece of scotch tape running across its front. It obviously wasn't meant to stick to the container forever. Willow flipped it over and her heart skipped a beat.

The back, in the same thick writing, read, "To be opened shortly after the kidnapping."

* * * *

The door to Jael's chamber opened for the first time since he ordered the onslaught. Most of his soldiers were in the house after the successful raid of the mansion. His spell, enabling them to enter without an invitation, helped them immensely. 

The room was virtually sound proof. Silence was welcomed when he wanted to scour the plane. Back in his younger days, he could locate a single being on the planet with a thought. Now it took concentration to do the act. He could still outperform all his children, but now he felt a sense of impotence. 

"Jael?"

"Everett," he said. He kept his eyes on the singular flame burning beside him. "Bring him."

Jael felt a giddiness rattle his bones. He had long since become desensitized to his own presence, but the child's… it was so pure, so powerful. It was stronger that any vampire's, and Slayer's, any being's in the time his existence. It was similar to the sun. From afar, you'd notice it but not be riveted by its presence. Up close, it encompassed your vision allowing only it to be seen, a giant gleam of light that owned your attention. He doubted he would ever feel it again, after the day has passed.

He felt a smile slowly forge from his usually displeased mien. He tried to shake it away but the sensation engulfed his mind. He felt like a first time father.

"Here he is." Everett was standing beside the chair, holding Austin. He had fallen asleep, despite the hectic day.

"Excellent," Jael said, more jolly than he intended. Joy did not command respect and wasn't an aura he liked to radiate. 

Everett handed the boy to the bulky figure. He fit easily in his arms, barely taking up half the space Jael's forearm claimed. He looked hunchbacked as he looked down on the napping tike.

"Is your foot okay?" Jael heard him drag the limp appendage along the floor.

"Just sprained," Everett said. "I took an awkward fall holding the boy." Everett paused. He did not like to pester Jael with his questions. "Did-"

"Lee make it out alive?" Jael said, cutting off the speech. "No. He was killed shortly after you escaped the hospital."

"By who?" Everett's voice resembled that of a man who let his pet rabbit die. Sincerity hinted at, but not overwhelming.

"Several vampires invaded the hospital while you were escaping, plus the Slayer and the strange one. They will be the first of many arriving shortly."

Everett held his head low. The shame of failure scathed his subconscious. He wasn't sure why, but Jael had a power over him. He felt obliged to meet his demands and seek his approval. It wasn't something he cared much for in the past, not until he was reborn.

"I'm sorry I didn't feel their presence. My mind wasn't quiet as with the battle with the vampires. I… hesitated and nearly lost the child."

"Rest easy, Everett. I placed you with this task because I knew you would accomplish it. It was the first time you were placed with such a responsibility. Therefore, I did not expect a flawless performance." Jael looked at the uneasy Ecrasmau and let his eyes reassure him. "Calm your thoughts, Everett. Close your eyes," he instructed. Everett did so. "Can you feel it? The swarm of death is enclosing this town. They are coming. They want this beacon of light lost the void of blackness. It will be a glorious battle. Just as I always envisioned the endgame."

"I can feel them," Everett whispered. "There are so many."

"I never said this would be easy, not to any of you. The journey is only as important as the obstacles you face along the way. If no effort is put into place, there is no reason to enjoy your success."

Everett opened his eyes. "Do you want me to begin the transfer to the final stage?"

"First feed. I don't want you struggling when we are faced with the confrontation. Then, bring me some milk." He turned his attention to Austin. "He should be getting hungry soon."

"Of course," Everett said, then left the room.

The door shut tight and the scraping wood caused the baby to stir. He moved for a second, slinging his arms about, then settled back into his rest. Jael found himself wondering what he was dreaming of, or if he had the slightest idea of what was in store for him.

"Little Rosenberg, my tiny brother, let me tell you a story."

* * * *

Lars was one of the first vampires to arrive at the mansion. Before this, he lived in some hick town that he never bothered to learn the name of. The town itself didn't matter, only it's location. It was less then a half-hours drive from Sunnydale, California. 

His days were fairly boring. He'd spend most of it training or reading (Anne Rice was a favorite). The only gratification came from his daily feedings. Cows weren't just for milking anymore. They tasted so good that he spent much of his fortune on a small farm. The chickens were also a treat but they didn't compare to the flavor and practicality of the main entrée. He could rotate, dining lightly on its blood supply, and end up milking them for the rest of their lives. And what did they care? They were cows!

He was sitting in his favorite chair when he got the call. It was a small blue lazy-boy that contorted beautifully to his butt. The book was R.L. Steins' "The Surprise Party". Sure it was for little kids and there was no swearing, but he still managed to be sucked into it every time. Satan bless the man who invented the mystery.

The ring was shrill and mimicked a small barbarous demon he once came across in France. It caught his attention and that was the idea. Breaking him from his thoughts wasn't easy.

The man on the other end was a friend who had connections in Sunnydale. He said one sentence and then hanged up. "The Daywalkers have arrived." Words he'd been waiting seven months to hear.

It was driving down the desolate highway that he became slightly annoyed by the shortness of the call. "The Daywalkers have arrived", wasn't exactly the level of detail he would have preferred. "The Daywalkers have attacked and we're kicking their asses! Come on and get a few licks in before they're all gone." That would have been the dream message. Unfortunately, by the sound of his voice, he doubted it would be so cut and dry. There was a scrap to happen and he was to be there. Plus Bob still had to call everyone he knew with the message. It was a long list and there wasn't much time for small talk, not if they were all going to make it to Sunnydale in time.

The drive itself wasn't so eventful. There seemed to be more people leaving Sunnydale then going to. Maybe that ESP thing was true after all. Maybe they all got a whiff of what was about to go down and decided to take that long overdue trip to that distant relative or something or other. 

Lars thought that the roads wouldn't be so lonely after long. Soon both road and air would be clogged with vampires rallying to protect their claim on humanity. Private jets, private cars, what did it matter. It was vampire pride in its truest form. You fucked with us now we're going to fuck with you ten times from Sunday! 

A pride lost since his days with his old trio of buddies filled Lars. It was a rare century when vampires gathered together for the common good. Any sort of meeting previously would end up with a scribal over territory or some ancient rivalry. 

"You fucked me over back in Milan in the 18th century!" 

"And you fucked me over in Australia with that girl I wanted to go with!"

Your basic territorial pissings shit that Lars never cared for. Why bother with the past when you're living in the now.

The streets of Sunnydale were no different then the highways leading into it. Barren, hollow, vacant, all were words that gave the gist of the town. Inactive would have been Lars' choice. 

He drove across the town until he came to the wooded area that housed the house known unofficially as "Vampvile". Lars never really cared for the name. It was too cutely and vampires were anything but cute.

He pulled the car off to the side of the road and stepped out, basking in the night. The air was chilled to his liking. He spent a lot of time in Switzerland so he was used to it. 

The wind was blowing against his skin when he felt the strangest sensation. It was as if his radar suddenly came on and it detected intruders. More likely, people watching him in the distance. It wasn't an attractive thought.

"Bastards," he muttered. He surveyed the surrounding areas of trees, a sloping hill, and the large house standing further away. The only thing in motion was the wind, brushing against the leaves and everything in its path. "Bastard," he said again. The wind was his enemy and was possibly masking an ambush from somebody or something. He decided to take it on blind faith and walked over to the house.

Thankfully, he wasn't attacked. He reached the building unmolested and was met past the front door by a man dressed in dark fatigues. He didn't notice the small crowd of people standing behind the man. He only paid attention to the semiautomatic rifle strapped against his arm, the small desk beside him, the headset and hearing piece jammed into his ear.

"Sign here," he said, pointing at the sheet on the desk.

Lars walked over to the assembled wooden furniture. A guest book was lying on it, along with a single pen. Lars scanned the sheet for familiar names. Sinister popped up with a few other notables.

Lars signed the sheet and bypassed the guard, entering the party.

It was a pilgrimage repeated by dozens of vampires before the night was done.

2

The crowd of people was an eclectic bunch. Various peoples from all walks of life with one purpose in mind. There's no need to state it since it's been said several times before. 

The two in the center were the leaders of the group. The girl we already know, but the man was a new arrival to Sunnydale. His name was Sinister, the self appointed leader of a small group of vampires who specialized in assassinations. Human or demon, it didn't matter. As long as you had the cash it was dead, no problem.

He was a tall man with short blond hair that looked ruffled by bird feathers, straying in all directions. The comb was not his friend. He was dressed in the same dark fatigues donned by rest of his men. I say men because he did not care for women being in his troop. They weren't fit and proved to be a distraction with anything containing testosterone. He also liked to have sex with men a lot. His perspective, not mine.

Buffy stood across from him, resolve face intact. They were currently in a discussion about the next move. Everyone had their own ideas but these two were the most audible. The rest were currently hushed by the situation.

At the table were Drusilla and Spike. She had her head nestled against his shoulder, still hurting from the attack. At the opposite end of the fixture were Liam and Xander. Their heads were lying limp on the ligneous surface, eyes shut and seemingly taking naps. They couldn't sleep if they wanted to. The only person with deadpan interest in the conversation was Burlson; a vampire in Sinister's ranks who was his right-hand man.

Two were huddled in corner of the room. Wrapped in darkness as well as a large blanket. Fran wasn't cold and neither was Robin. But they saw this in movies all the time and figured there had to be some merit to it. The survivors of the massacre wet and tired, cuddled in a blanket with relief exhaled from their glow. It wasn't true for these two.

Lars walked across the room and sat down at the table. Directly across from Burlson and smack between each pair of strangers. Buffy and Sinister were behind him but he didn't mind. All he wanted to do was listen.

"If all goes according to plan," Sinister said, "we should have at least 45 vampires in two hours. 60 in three."

"Plan!" Buffy exclaimed. "You planned on letting everyone in this house die?!" 

"No! Of course not," Sinister said. "I'm just saying that our numbers should be increasing momentarily. Then we can strike back." Buffy sighed. "My boys number at 13. We will have the advantage."

"Great," Buffy said disheartened. "More vampires for them to slaughter."

"Hey! I ain't going into this thing half-assed. I have my scouts out there looking for their location right now," Sinister said defending himself.

"Your whole-assed plan my just be what they want us to do! Did you ever think of that?! We don't even know…" her voice trailed off. "We don't ever know why they kidnapped my best friend's son." She crossed her arms against her chest and lowered her head, saddened by the thought.

Sinister scratched his scalp with his fingers. His hair was further ruffled. "Listen, not to criticize your Slayer abilities, but how can you be sure it was a Daywalker that stole the boy?"

Buffy lifter her head from its slouch slowly. Her eyes were afire with anger. "Fuuck yoouu!" she screamed. "I didn't just imagine his face contorting and ripping into that lady's throat! I doubt Spike did either?!"

Spike rose from his daze. "He was like no vamp I've ever seen." As soon as said, he went back to stroking Dru's head with the tips of his fingers. 

"Well screw you two then!" Sinister said. "Here I am trying to preserve our way of life and all I'm hearing is bitch, bitch, bitch! You people stop whining and do your goddamn jobs!" The crowd was silent. "We have two names here: Jael and Naeem. And something that we've never heard about before; the Time Stream or some crap like that! Something has got to give! You have your Watcher looking all this up aren't you?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Giles is at his place checking it out." Along with Angel and Amy, protection and help was something he desperately needed. "I've also have my old Watcher looking through the Council's files for any references. If anything turns up it'll be in there."

For the first time, Sinister's gaze shifted from Buffy. She wondered what could be so interesting and decided to join his perspective. The only curious thing transpiring at the table was a whispering conference between Liam and Xander. The others looked at them with interest, but not consumed.

"You boys want to share your thoughts with the rest of us?" Sinister's voice was patronizing, like that of an elderly teacher who put in a few too many years.

"Okay, sure," Liam said. He stepped out of his chair, followed slowly by Xander. "Me and Xander are going to go back to the hospital now. If you don't mind," he added.

"What? You can't do that!" Buffy said alarmed. "The police might still be looking for you Xander."

"I've changed my clothes, Buffy." The argument sounded flimsy at best.

"Xander."

"I'll wear a goddamn hat!" Xander shrieked. He pressed the palm of his hand against his temple, upset with himself. He paused for a second to compose his thoughts. "We left her all alone, Buffy. What if they go back for her? Someone has to watch over her… to be with her."

Buffy swallowed hard. "You go on then. I'll follow you guys later, and Giles should be heading there soon. Hopefully he'll find something."

Liam and Xander pushed their chairs back against the table and made their way to the door. "If anything happens call us," Liam said.

"Sure do," Buffy mumbled.

The two passed the armed guard and reentered the night, closing the door behind them. Sinister and Buffy's eyes met again in debate. In the midst of these events, Lars wondered when the rest would be showing up.

* * * *

"Ah, where to begin." Jael sighed. This would be the first time he ever told of himself to another. The moment felt special. "There once was a boy. A farmer's son actually. He grew up in a land far different than this. It was a simple land, no cars, no guns, and no technology. It was almost three millennia ago. His mother was a caring woman, as was his father. Everyone in the nearby village loved them, and the boy. The people said he had his father's build, muscular and strong, and his mother's heart, pure as can be. But he never felt right about himself. He always felt different than his parents. Then everyone he met actually. He sometimes felt like an alien that was dropped from the sky and his parents never bothered to tell him. He also saw differently than everyone else. Sometimes, he could see colors around people. But they would only stand momentarily. He would blink and they would be gone, making him believe he might be crazy.

"But as he grew, the colors visited him less and less. He eventually chalked it all up to a child's imagination. Something he may have dreamt of to make his life more exciting. And he eventually forgot them altogether. 

"This wasn't meant to be, thought. The boy was destined for something greater than the life of a farmer. The sight he possessed was only the tip when it came to what he could achieve. Only, he knew nothing of it. His destiny lay dormant in him, waiting for a guide to help him find it."

The dark man. 

The thought broke the flow of his story. He looked back at Austin, sleeping in his arms. He smiled and continued forward.

"He had just turned 28 when he destiny finally found him. The boy, or man, had settled into a comfortable lifestyle. On his 20th birthday he married and found himself a farm. It was near his parents and this pleased him. His bride was a vision. He couldn't believe he could love someone so much. Only with life, nothing can be perfect. Both wanted children and none were coming. Eight years they tried and hadn't produced a single offspring. It wore on the marriage and they became distant.

"That's when it happened. Both were asleep in their bed. Lying close to each other but farther apart then any couple could be. He awoke from his slumber to an odd feeling. His hand was wet and covered in a wet substance. He looked to his wife to find her dead. Her throat was torn open and she had bled onto the pillow and blankets. He nearly cried for the skies to echo. 

"He never had the chance. His mouth was covered and he felt his hand being pinned down by some monstrous force. He turned his head forward to see two cold, green eyes staring at him. He screamed in terror and felt his neck being punctured by two hard points. Things became blurry and he felt his mouth being invaded by a strange substance. It was bitter and cold. He realized it was blood and panic filled his heart. Even in his wounded state, he tried to cough up the poison to no avail. It was too large in its contents and made its way to his bloodstream. He fell asleep shortly after.

"He woke up days later and discovered that he had died. He was no longer living but one of the undead. He could no longer stand in the brightness of the sun, see his reflection, and was susceptible to all faults of the vampires. The man who awoke him was a sorcerer who called himself Jael. He claimed that he had spent the better part of a thousand years looking for the one. By the one he meant the person who could change the plane. The plane was a place where every energy could be found, but most importantly the energy of life. The colors he saw as a child were just that, life.

"Jael said he could train the man to see through the plane, and most importantly, to channel these energies. The man, feeling indebted to his sire, decided he should accept the deal and share the power with the dark man.

"After mere weeks of training he could do what Jael had promised. If he chose to, he could borrow these energies and do amazing things. But the man did not want to accomplish amazing things; he wanted to do astonishing things! He learned he could drain the life out of a being and use it for his own means. The first life-force he drained was that of his sire, Jael. He never saw it coming."

Jael smiled. Unforeseen betrayal was a chipper light in his dismal life. Especially when committed by himself.

"Free of his obligations, to all from his present and past lives, the man sought out to change his world. He started by adopting the name of his sire. He was an especially well known sorcerer and was also a recluse. It was the perfect identity to adopt and to easily gain respect from his soon to be allies.

"The vampires knew of his sire and agreed to follow him when they learned of his abilities. They thought he was an ancient vampire who just learned the key to supremacy and would be willing to share it with them. They were right about the second part.

"Jael spent the next few years touring the world. In a substantially short period he was able to prove himself to every vampire in the world. And was able to destroy all those who chose to forsake him. Mostly ancients or egos who wanted to rule themselves. They were easily dealt with," Jael smirked.

"Jael started his rule with a colossal event. It was one of the largest catastrophes in the history of human kind. Not that I brag," Jael said modestly. "It was the greatest mass ritualistic slaughter of its kind. With the help of all the vampires, Jael was able to gather thousands of humans and sacrifice them. It was a ritual that destroyed the greatest hindrance to the vampire race. All with the blood of the undead were now impervious to the sunlight.

"Needless to say a new day was born. Humans could no longer ignore the breed that hid so inconspicuously among them for centuries. The vampire population quickly thickened and made their claim as the rulers of the planet.

"The humans knew their time was up when Jael succeeded his grandest achievement. Nearly half the population of the planet was eradicated when Jael made himself an immortal. The souls of many mortals were fed off and Jael couldn't be happier. A stake, holy water, decapitation, all did nothing to him. He was truly a god. And as a bonus, he restored his seed."

It may not have meant much to others in his position, but it made him feel like a real man.

"His leadership was not a question now. He would rule over the vampires and the subservient mortal class. Allowing them to carry out their lives, if only for the food supply. He'd steal the life out of the humans once and awhile to amuse himself. Watching a human disappear into ash was a treat that any vampire would get a kick out of.

"Oh," Jael said. Another fact came to mind. "Jael took it upon himself to rename the vampires after he became ruler. 'Ecrasmau' was what he chose. In the language of the old ones it meant 'gods of the weak'. It was a fitting title for his people. 

"But, given time, any empire begins to find faults. Cracks at first, then growing with the passing of each generation until they are giant chasms. The humans were always unhappy. They had been reduced to slave status and were constantly in fear for their lives. Though, they found unlikely allies. The vampires that once pledged allegiance to Jael grew tired of his leadership. 

"So an underground movement was given birth. Nearly every human was willing to help while another half of the vampires found their priorities shifting. Jael himself was oblivious to these events transpiring around him. He was drunk on his power and no longer paid attention to the outside world.

"With the help of a group of witches, a new ritual was performed. The lives of every human child were given freely in an effort to destroy Jael. Only, they knew they couldn't kill him. The best they could hope for was banishment. 

"It was like the book said, 'The blood of the innocent will cleanse the land, washing away the rot that has fortified itself upon it. The great evil will be lost, expelled to a new land and protected by the great wall. This wall will secure the evil and it will no longer plague the land from which it originated.' Or something to that extent, I can't be sure. 

"But things did not go smoothly for the traitors. Jael realized their plan and was able to punish them. He stole the souls of several thousand humans in a single breath and used them to reign fire from the heavens. His home was practically destroyed in his final action as a god. It was quite a site, though. I'll give it that much.

"And it was with that Jael was lost. He was watching the sky grow red when he felt a tug, a gentle nudge and then a rip at his being. The pain was insurmountable. Maybe because he hadn't experienced the sensation in several hundred years. He became unconscious and awoke to surroundings different then his last. But that wasn't the thing that captured his attention. It was that he could no longer channel. The energies were different somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it but everything was different somehow. The world felt different.

"And so Jael was no longer a god, but merely an immortal. He spent the next few months learning about this new land. There were humans, animals… and vampires. Then he heard about the legend of the 'wall' his people used. He would never be able to breach it, no matter the spell, no matter the ritual." 

Jael's stare was on the flame, but now focused back on Austin. His passive glare turned malignant. "Then I heard of you, a soul that has not yet been born but still out there. You, son of Willow Rosenberg, you are what will set me free. We are the same; we are both blessed with the same gift. We may not share the same form, parents, or world, but you are I. You are the I of this world. We are truly soul mates."

Jael sat up from the monstrous chair, still cradling the small child with careful pause. "Now we will go off. Part of me wishes I could train you. You would be my son in every important way. I would teach you of the values instilled by my father, and my mother. But for me to live, you must die. Sorry."

Jael walked out of the room. The next person he ran into was Gabriel. He gave her the child to hold and then told his children it was time. They were to move out and challenge the adversaries. Whether they answered or not the plan would proceed. Everyone would die in a few hours, and Jael would have his revenge.

* * * *

Willow put down the letter feeling uneasy. Though, panicked may have been a more accurate description, or maybe just scared. Whatever she felt, it wasn't a feeling she welcomed. The letter answered many of the questions inflating her mind but it also lead to more. Questions that she had no means of to answer.

Maybe he could help.

"You mind letting me read it," Seth asked.

"Go ahead," Willow replied to the strange man. "I'm not one to hog."

"No, I doubt you are," Seth said smiling. He picked up the letter from Willow's hands and held it to read. It read as such:

__

Dear Ms. Rosenberg,

I guess right now you're wondering who sent you this letter and what do they want. This letter has one purpose, to tell you why the one called Jael abducted your son. 

First, I feel I should tell you a little about myself and that'll lead to how I acquired this knowledge. I grew up in a camp in Costa Rica where I was raised with one goal in mind: to become an Ecrasmau. I spent my childhood in a compound were the recruits and servants lived. Or I guess just the recruits since everyone was considered a servant to the Ecrasmau. My mother was born into the camp while my father found it after hearing about the legend. That's what he said anyway. I never really believed my father was smart enough to track down this speck on the map or even learn about this forgotten race. I think he was chosen to keep the gene pool fresh. Doubt they were big fans of inbreeding.

One day, my birthday actually, my parents allowed me and my brother to go outside the compound. They were very protective so this was a breakthrough on their part. Well, my brother and me went outside into the wild forest. Don't ask me how, I'm still not sure, but we got lost. We tried but couldn't find our way back. Thankfully, our parents were big on survival training. Even thought I was only six and my brother seven. We managed to survive on berries and water until we came across this road. It was old, the grass growing on it was up to my neck, but it still led to a village. I never made it back home.

Years past and me and sibling grew up. We would mostly steal food, clothes, or any object we could sell cheap. There was one advantage to growing up without parents, freedom. It was a freedom I never experienced in my previous six years on this planet. Before that I was told what to do 23 hours of the day. It wasn't exactly a carefree childhood.

And then I was turned into a vampire. Ironic since I was taught to hate them from birth. I had to share it so I in turn changed my brother. Share and share alike, as the saying goes.

My brother has long since past on but I've spent the last few hundred years hunting and waiting for this day. The Hellmouth seemed like the most logical place to wait for the chosen one since everything else happens here. "Chosen one", that must be a phrase you've heard a thousand times before but this time it's more specific. In this case it means the person who is born with the power to see the plane and take from it. From what I've heard, the plane is a place where the purest form of life can be found and the chosen one can do what he wants with it. It's usually a guy too, the opposite of a Slayer. 

Jael is also a chosen one, just like your son. Only, for some reason, Jael has lost the ability. We were never told why. The stuff I am telling you is folklore; stories passed on by generations of humans wanting to be an Ecrasmau. The facts I do have are that with your son's death, Jael will be able to restore his power. In a ritual he will destroy something called the Timestream. Or is it Time Stream? The Time Stream is the only thing that Jael fears. 

Why, if I'm telling you this, did I wait till now? The time during the ritual is the only time he is vulnerable. Leave it to the gods to even things out, eh? I didn't think you'd have the courage to allow your son to be abducted and risk his life. Those maternal instincts may be a little too strong. And if you didn't, who knows how Jael might have reacted. Spending a few thousand years waiting and then coming up with nothing? He's kept a low profile till now but I doubt he'd be so kind. Maybe the vampire and human race would have to contend with a new group gaining rapid numbers?

I don't know exactly how you're supposed to kill Jael. I do know it won't be easy. His numbers will be great and yours will have to be also. I'm sure that all the vampires will be revving to settle the score.

Me, I'm long gone. I decided my work was done the moment I met you and sensed the child in your womb. It was the first time I ever sensed anything on the plane so it was a special moment for me. I've sure been trying long enough. The last time I sensed something was when I felt Jael nearing again. I knew it had to be time and decided to leave this letter with Ross for after the shit hit the fan. I want to die on a beach, getting a non-tan, and sipping on some cute blonde. Good times. I hope your boy grows up strong and healthy. But I'm not holding my breath (ha ha).

Your non-friend… Lucia Francis Labeau.

"Hmm." Seth passed the letter back to Willow. "It's starting to make sense to me now. Why we never knew of Jael and never knew of Liam." He paused. "I guess I'll try and fill in the blanks of this letter."

Willow's gaze was attentive. She didn't care who this stranger was right now, but only that he had answers. Answers she needed.

"This stuff about the Time Stream is new to me. No one ever mentioned it but it fits in with what we already know. Jael isn't from this reality," he said flatly. "Before this, all we knew was that he didn't belong here. That he was a random and didn't fit into anything going on here. The same for Liam, but I have my own theory on that fellow." 

He looked at Willow to survey her mood. She looked on earnestly, half covered in her blankets. It was not the reaction he expected. 

"You okay? You're handing this really well."

Willow's gaze lowered. She began to run her fingers over her forefinger, her eyes fixated on the action. "I think it's the shock. This isn't how I expected my day to be at all. And I think it's my way of dealing with it… on my own." Her stare was back on Seth. "Continue please."

"Sure do," he said. "First Liam. Now this is just me guessing. I want you to know that." She nodded. "Good. I, personally, think he's a Vymri Cerln. Demon legend has it that they are the guardians of the Time Stream. And it makes sense that he'd be here now. The Time Stream is in trouble."

"Questions."

"Go for it."

"I don't actually think he is a demon," Willow said. "He's not like any demon I've ever read about."

"That's the thing," Seth said agitated. "He's not like any demon I've ever heard about either. The Vymri Cerln are an unknown breed. They're so high up on the chain that no one even knows what they look like, let alone exist! We don't know what powers they have and, I don't know, maybe they're a demon/human hybrid. Anything's possible but this actually makes some sense." He sighed. "Anyway, that's my theory. Totally unsubstantiated but it's mine. Feedback?"

"None. I suggest we move along."

"Okay. Next up the Time Stream. It's basically a… uh." Seth cracked his knuckles, trying to think. "Think of it this way. You have a dam. The dam stops the two groups of water from joining together. That's our reality and Jael's. Also, some dimensions are linked together. Like the demon dimension and this one. They're limited to each other for some reason. Congruent you might say. And if Jael manages to pull off this ritual the dam will break. The water will come rushing in and kick our water's ass. It's a bad analogy, I know," Seth said. He scrubbed his hair violently with his hands. "It's some bad ass water and only the things related to the other water will survive and live in that… hell with it! Reality! Reality! There, back to the basics. So Jael, and anyone connected to him, will survive and find themselves back in his reality. Like say, people carrying his blood."

"So we're gone, nothing exists and Jael goes back to the land of the happy."

"Eloquently put, I must say. Now here's the part I was told to tell you. During the ritual a portal will be made. This portal is going to lead to the Time Stream, a reality of its own. Now this portal is going to be unstable for around an hour, and that's when you're going to have to strike. You have to drive him into it somehow, probably just by pushing or pulling him into it. That's when the Slayer and her friends are going to come in handy. Anything, I mean anything, can't survive being in this nexus. Your body, your very soul, is ripped into a thousand pieces, eaten and then ripped back up again. But once this portal is stable, Jael can perform the sacrifice and its game over. I think that covers everything."

"Not everything. Why?"

"Why what?"

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!" she screamed. Tears began to flow. Seth looked scared. "Why did you do this to my son!" 

Seth threw a glance back to the door behind him. Any second now, he thought. Any second one of the nurses would run in and he'd have to exit stage right. A few seconds passed and nobody was willing. Have to make use of the time. 

Seth looked back to Willow. The events of the past day were written clearly across her face. When he entered the room, he could see the shadows of her pain. Hiding in her voice and in her eyes. Now she wasn't hiding. 

"Listen," he said, his voice smooth but still lingering with fear. He was walking in a minefield and didn't want to set of another bomb. "I don't know why anything happens. Why is Buffy a Slayer, why am I a demon? Who knows? But I do know that there is a tiny bit of reason behind each action in the universe. That's why you're the messenger. They wouldn't have chosen you if they didn't think you couldn't handle it. You are everyone's best chance at survival. The child is usually only born to good parents around every dozen thousand years. And most of the time the kid doesn't even realize his power and never does anything about it. But the child needs someone to love him and teach him the difference between right and wrong. No one fits that bill better then you. No one is better suited for this job then you. You have to realize that."

Willow wiped the front of her hand against her eyelids, clearing her vision. The tears lessened. "I don't want this job."

"No one said you would," he replied simply. "You'd probably be crazy if you did."

"Yeah… I guess I would."

"One final thing. Only you will know when the ritual begins. It'll just be a feeling you'll get. Once it starts, you tell Buffy and then they can begin the fight. That's everything."

Seth walked back to the door and left as quietly and mysteriously as he entered. Willow held the letter and placed in onto the tray along with her food, now cold. Somehow knowing all the answers made it all worse.

3

The living room of the mansion was swelling before Fran left. The numbers of new arrivals were already at 27, much more than Sinister, or her, expected so early after the call. She recognized most of the faces. After all, being a vampire is like being in a club. And if you stick around long enough, you meet all the new members. 

She and Robin were stilled huddled in the corner until she left. Being a socialite with all her peers wasn't an appealing proposition at the time so it was the natural thing to do. Nothing says leave me alone like crouching in the corner and looking disgruntled. Though, Robin was countering her mood, growing restless and anxious. She tried her best to hide it and be a decent friend, but her principal nature drove her to not care that Crunch was dead. They were evil, after all.

Many of the vampires Fran told Robin of had already arrived or were on the way. Only the anti-socials or psychotics would be avoiding this meeting. Fran fell into the first category. 

The crowd was chatting amongst themselves. With the Slayer gone the mood significantly lightened. It was the like an invisible joint had been passed around instantaneously. The mood of the vampires was very buddy-buddy, casually talking and reminiscing about the old times. It made Fran feel nauseous. 

Didn't they know how many of their kind died that night? But they did, and that's why Fran felt so angry. If in the opposite position, she would no doubt feel no remorse for the fallen comrades. Hypocrisy wasn't something she took to and that's what she was, a hypocrite. And it wasn't the loss that brought all these men and women together, it was more or less spite. Spite can take you far, if your ego is big enough.

It was after Crunch's sire came up to talk to her that Fran decided to duck out. Laney, her name was (it was originally Soon but she changed it after too many people called her Sun). She came into the house as the others did. She entered the doors, signed the sheet (an oddly civil thing for vampires to do, Fran thought), and did a meet and greet of the room. Then she came across her and Robin, still hidden in the corner in the dark and blankets. She gazed at the two inquisitively, probably wondering the rational of this action. Fran remained indifferent. 

"So," Laney said, "where's my young protégé? I heard he was hanging out here with you, Fran."

"Fuck this," Fran muttered and stormed out of the mansion. Robin didn't make any movement to stop her or even join her.

On her way out she heard a vamp say, "What crawled up her but and died?"

My foot up your ass, she replied. 

Now she was walking the streets of Sunnydale, like a hundred times before. Her usual feeling of amoral delight was replaced by fiendish contempt. She hated her kind. Why were they here? They weren't real demons, only tainted pieces of humanity. The old ones were gone and now the spoiled offspring of their bloodline continued to taunt the mortals. Not really an honorable job, hiding in the shadows from the so-called lesser race.

What the hell have I done with my life, Fran thought. Nothing great. Not even by vampire standards.

A car drove by. In her brief glance, she spotted four teenagers, two girls and two guys. Probably heading to the Bronze. It was Saturday and school was out, a time for the youth to enjoy their freedom. 

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said.

The car turned a corner and the loud music oozing from the cracks of the car slid away as quickly as it appeared. It was the Chemical Brothers. Good music to set a party mood but not exactly agreeing with Fran's. She considered following them and having a party of her own. And maybe she would later, but for now… she felt too lazy. A good kill takes time and some concentration to be done properly. It would end haphazardly if she attempted it now, and would be disappointed in herself later for the idle effort.

The streets were once again less that audible. A few noises could be heard. Cars further in the distance, traveling to and from destinations. Other than that, nothing. This didn't sit well with Fran. She was too used to the company of others, even strangers. She stemmed from a large family to her delight. There were always people to converse with, when she was younger.

I should head to the Bronze. Maybe I'll meet someone worth talking to. 

The faintest sound trickled to her ear. It sounded like people, laughing no less. And they weren't in a car but on foot, or at least traveling at a very slow speed. 

Could be interesting, Fran thought and made her way to the sound's origin.

The sound was from the next street over. The voices were male. Boisterous males, the most interesting of them all. In Fran's opinion, anyway. 

Fran passed the corner and could hear the voices near. Just beyond the concrete and other items that made up the stores beside and before her. Not a hint of bitterness or anger in them, which meant it was probable they were teens.

Maybe I'll snack after all. 

Fran kept walking but slowed her pace. She wanted to get a good look at these young fellows before doing anything rash. 

"Is this the one?" she heard one of the persons ask. It was female, guess this wasn't a total male bevy after all.

The group came into view. There were six of them, four girls and two guys. It was typical that the guys had to make all the noise. They were traipsing along the sidewalk and were headed across the bare street. The young adults were dressed in dark trench coats. It wasn't exactly your usually teenage attire. 

She saw one of the guys playing with something as he skipped onto the bare concrete. Twirling it around like a cheerleader's baton. Fran's jaw dropped. It was a sword.

"Shit," Fran whispered and hopped to the side with as much discretion as possible. She hoped that standing against the glass window, shrouding in the shadows, they wouldn't notice her or possible not care.

She sniffed the air. What the hell? They were human. The Daywalkers had a confusing scent, not of a vampire and not of a mortal. They were human; it was as plain as day.

The group was at the middle of the crosswalk and stopped. One of the females pointed to the middle of the intersection. Fran squinted her eyes. It was a manhole. The female walked over to the covering with the rest of the group close behind. She slid over the heavy piece of metal and looked down. Fran watched, more curious than scared. The girl led the pack down. The rest followed, moving down the ladder, not caring about their surroundings or if anyone noticed this action.

Nearly the entire group was done the pipe. All except the one man, still playing with the sleek blade. The man, or boy, depending on your own perspective, tossed the sword from one hand to the other. The hands were close enough that there was no danger of his accidentally dropping it and cutting off a toe. Careful extremism, that's what it was.

The man did drop the blade. Though, not by accident. He held it with one hand, and then let it fall down the narrow tunnel leading downward. 

His little half-time show was so he wouldn't hit them with the sword. 

She couldn't hear it, but she saw him cracking his knuckles. It was an awful lot of preparation to climb down a ladder. Then he looked to Fran's direction and tipped an imaginary hat. 

"What the?" Fran whispered.

The man chuckled to himself and climbed down the hole. The circular lid remained by its side, beckoning others to join.

"It need a drink," Fran said and walked off to the Bronze.

* * * *

"And that's all this… Seth said?"

"Yup," Willow said, answering Giles. "I just finished the letter when he came in. So I figured it was 'explanation time'. That or they really want me to get something to eat."

"You got to love those demons, they're so kooky," Xander said looking at Sarah. She brushed off the comment and looked back to her strangely tranquil daughter. It was all she could do to stop from fainting. Liam's attention didn't unsteady. 

"I've heard some references to the Time Stream in Giser's Demon Mythology but nothing concrete. I'm hesitant to put much faith in this… source."

"Giles, I am."

Giles turned around. "Is this what you refer to as the resolve face?"

Xander smirked. "That's right."

"Well, what do we do now?" Giles asked.

"Buffy's on her way here?"

"Yeah," Xander said stepping a foot closer. He was now beside the bed alongside Giles and Sarah. "As soon as you hinted at this thing I went and called her. Cooped up with a bunch of vampires can't be good for a Slayer. She should be here anytime now."

"Good. Giles, when she gets here, you show her the letter and explain everything to her. I don't want to have to do it again." Giles nodded. "Then you and her go to the mansion and tell them about it. Make sure they understand they are not to make a move until I say so."

"Easy enough," Giles said. His voice held some unease, confronting and controlling the vampires after receiving this information might be difficult. You never know how something so evil will react. "Anything else?"

"That's all I can think of," Willow said. "All I can say is I feel semi-hopeful. I just having a feeling that everything will turn out okay."

"Well, that's good enough for me." Sarah leaned forward and kissed Willow on the forehead. "I'm going to go tell you father all this. He's still a little confused about being attacked outside the house." Her expression turned worried, staring at the featureless wall. "I just hope his heart can take this." Her eyes settled back on Willow. "Will you be alright while I'm gone?"

Willow flapped her hands on her lap. "Perfectly fine."

"Xander, Liam, I want one of you with her at all times," Sarah ordered.

"Fine by us," Xander said. Liam didn't answer.

"I'm going to go out to the waiting room," Giles said. "I want to study the letter for a few before Buffy arrives. And I'm sure Amy and Angel are anxious to find out what this has been all about."

"Please do," Willow said. She handed the Giles the single piece of paper, written on both sides, folded neatly in three places. Giles smiled and walked out of the room, closing the door Sarah left open.

"So, you want to watch some TV, Wills?"

"Xander."

"What? I'm not really sure how to act in a situation like this so I'm trying to achieve some sense of normalcy," Xander said to Liam.

"Can me and Willow have a moment alone?" Liam asked. His tone was low, slightly pleading. Xander picked up on it.

"Sure. I'll be right back, Will," Xander said. He was sorry he had to leave the room but didn't want Willow to see it. She was under enough pressure. He opened and closed the door firmly behind himself.

"No more smoke screening, Willow, how are you really doing?" Liam's tone was strong, almost harsh.

"Like I said before, I'm fine," Willow said, very serene.

"Will, you're a very sensitive person. So, I find it hard to believe that you can be so," he paused.

"What? Calm? You're worrying that I've shut down emotionally in order to deal with the situation?"

"Actually, yeah."

"Well, don't worry. I haven't," she assured him. "In fact, inside, I'm a whirlwind of emotions. Any second now, I could breakdown." She laboriously gulped, suggesting the strain she was under. "But I'm staying strong, because that's what Buffy would do. It's the non-selfish thing to do."

"Yeah, everybody's trying to do that lately. Including the almost breaking down thing."

Willow became concerned. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," he responded.

"That wasn't very convincing, Liam," Willow said lightheartedly.

"Yeah, well, this isn't a time to get happy."

"I know that better than anyone. But you look a lot more worried than everyone else." She sighed. "Your thoughts aren't on the guy like the rest of us."

"They are… in a way." He pulled up a chair lying at the side of the room and sat himself down, chair backwards. "I'm just wondering what my part is in all this. What are the Vymri Cerln? What are they and what am I?"

"It's time to spill, Liam. I doubt we'll have any quiet time after this."

Liam grabbed the plastic cup on the nightstand beside Willow's bed. He took a gulp in one quick shot, like with Vodka. Only, it didn't have the same calming effect on his nerves. He placed the half-empty cup back where he found it.

He sat for a second, trying to chose his words carefully in his mind. Fuck it, he thought. Might as well be blunt.

"Since the moment I woke up I've been hearing voices, or a voice," he said, emphasizing the "a". "I just wonder if it's natural, for me, a demon? Or maybe I'm something else? Shit," he whispered huskily under his breath. "What if I'm something that will betray you when we're in the middle of a fight? It's almost happened, too. When I'm angry I loose control. I don't want to do anything to hurt you, Willow, or the boy."

"Come here," she said. He shimmied the chair closer to the bed. The back against the rim of the bed, he set his chin down on plastic covering. "Look at me," she commanded. He did so. "Now, in the seven months I've known you, you've never harmed a single soul. A few demons, but you've never harmed a good thing in your life." She smirked but he didn't. There was nothing to smirk about. "You have a good heart and even good people lie. I just lied to my mom when I said I felt things were going to be okay. I feel no such thing," she said disinclined. "But I said it to make her feel better… She's never been in a situation like this." 

"I'm scum, Will."

"No you're not," she said, brushing his head. "You're a good person. Did you think I'd let you live in my house if I didn't believe that? Hmm?"

"It's just… I don't trust myself, Willow."

"Then I want you to do something for me." She waited till she was sure he had his attention. "I want you to go to Giles' and look up these Vymri Cerln. Maybe you'll find something, anything that can help. We still have some time and you won't be in top form if your mind is off wandering. But remember, whatever you find, who you are now. You are Liam Rosenberg. You're family. Even my mom's gotten used to you now."

Liam couldn't help but smile to that. "I'll be back in time to help with your boy. I won't let you down in that respect."

She nodded. "Okay."

Liam stepped up but stopped halfway to the door. "What are you going to say to the Osborne's? Their flight is due in a few hours."

"I don't know."

"Honest enough. Oh, yeah. I'm sure Xander wanted to ask you how you were doing too. He just doesn't want to upset you."

"I know. Everyone doesn't want to upset frail, little Willow. I appreciate it and I'm dealing."

He raised his hand. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Just go already!"

"Alright, alright," he said holding his hands up in mock defense. "I'm just trying to be polite here."

"Bye!" she said enthused, and then he closed the door.

I hope you find what you're looking for. She ran over the conversation in her head. There was nothing much else to do besides worry and deny. Damn, she thought. "Since the moment I woke up I've been hearing voices". 

"Stupid," she whispered.

Why didn't she ask him about them, or it?! Her instinct to help him took president at the time, but now? What was it like? Or what did it say?

These thoughts remained with her mind till he returned some time later.

* * * *

Okay, I'm a man with a mission. Now how do I accomplish it? 

Liam set out down the hallway on a trot. Since the incident (it was better to not actually think of it in terms of what happened) he'd felt torpid, almost helpless. Now was his opportunity to actually do something. And maybe he could help his friends out in the process. 

Liam turned the corner and spotted the waiting room. Though, a few chairs were left along the hallway, it was the official place to wait. He didn't know why it was located on the opposite side of the building from where the elevator came up. Stupid planning on the engineers part. There wasn't even a set of stairs located nearby. It had to break some sort of fire code.

He slowed to a hurried walk when the sounds of the room caught him. The TV was on. It sounded like a movie. For some reason he thought bad, 80's action movie, probably because of the dialogue.

"What are you watching?"

"Marked for Death," Xander answered.

"I thought it was Licensed to Kill?" Amy said.

"That's a James Bond movie. This is Steven Segal. But who cares, they're all pretty much the same," Xander said. "How's Willow?" 

"She's okay. Better then I'd be in her position," Liam said.

"Well, I'm going back in."

Liam stopped him. "Hey, before you go back, I need to ask you for a favor."

"Go ahead."

"I need your truck for a while."

Xander nearly burst out laughing. "You don't even know how to drive! Plus, the thing's a safety hazard!"

"I'll drive," Amy said, rising from her chair.

Xander turned to her. "Do you know how to drive a stick?"

"Doesn't everyone? And plus, I'm a witch. It'll probably come in handy if your truck is as bad as you say it is."

"Here you go," he said tossing her the keys. He saw no reason to disagree. "Watch the clutch, it's a little sensitive."

Xander was gone a second later, already sprinting down the hallway. Amy smiled at Liam. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Giles'. I have a few things I want to look up."

4

Buffy walked down the hallway, Giles behind her, as was the conversation. What did he say? Austin's special (according to two demons)? He can, or will be able to, control the essence of a lifeforce? The thoughts dwindled in their volume with each step. Love has a way of making other things peripheral. Even if it is as fleeting as the love between Buffy and Angel.

She stopped a few feet from him, her arms crossed across her chest. For some reason it made her feel a further sense of control. Don't generals usually stand with a cold stare in a similar stance? Behind her she could hear the busy workings of the hospital, trying to cure the sick and dying. It was weird how the two floors could be so rival in comparison to each other. The first was a hubbub of activity while the second was very tranquil. But it was a bitter quiet. The patients were ill, after all.

Before her was Angel and nothing else. He stood in the middle of the hallway under the balmy light. Why did their meetings always have to be so surreal? Leaving in a mist of fog during an eclipse and then reappearing when Armageddon has reared its ugly snarl once again. His allure didn't help matters much. Why did he have to be so… perfect? Maybe if he were a jerk it wouldn't hurt so much to love him?

"Umm… hi," she said. Her tone was stiff and uncomfortable, accurately reflecting the mood.

"Hi," he replied back. The conversation wasn't onto a good start.

"So, why are you here? I mean, we know why you're here now but what made you come here?" she said correcting herself and feeling somewhat embarrassed for it.

"Oh." He thought about it. "Dru came and found me. It was kind of scary actually, her knowing exactly where to find me. Anyway, she told me you were in danger and then we came here in my car. Then, when we were entering town, she had another vision where she saw you in trouble at the hospital. You know the rest."

"Yeah, I guess I do." The silence wasn't deafening, the people far in the background saw to that. But it was dragging; making the moment longer then it was in the eyes of its participants. "So, were you going to call? As in ever?" The resent of seven months of wondering was in her voice.

"Buffy-"

"No! Don't try and smooth talk your way out of this one. I'm angry at you and I deserve to be."

"I know," he said, his head hung low. "I'm sorry."

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that's all there is to say."

She turned to leave when she felt his grip on her hand. To this, she felt anger. She twisted her neck back, prepared to command his release. One thing stopped her, his eyes. They weren't harbingers of anger or sadness at the loss of control. He was worried. 

She looked at where his fixation lay. In his hands, he cradled the symbol of her near death experience. The scar stretching from the joint of her thumb, horizontal, and to the end of her hand.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Battle scar," she said. "A symbol of victories won and competitors bested. It's kind of trendy now, since me and Liam both have one. I'm sure you'd have one, too," she stammered. "If it wasn't for that whole regeneration thing you have down pat."

"Yeah, being a vampire sucks sometimes."

She wasn't sure if he was joking. "Plus, that walking the earth in a state of constant unhappiness for all of eternity thing."

"That kind of sucks, too."

She smiled. "What's this? Angel's making with the funny?"

He chuckled lightly. "I'm trying to be more people friendly. Humor is a way of achieving that. Granted, it's a subtle humor, but I'm trying."

"After a hundred or so years of lurking in the dark, talking to people must be a big step?"

"You could say that," he said. He sighed a dreading sigh. Like a child off to see the dentist. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for The Cleansing, or afterward."

"The Cleansing?" she asked. "Oh, well, I guess it's catchier than big ass massacre. Why didn't you come, afterward?" The pleasantries of the conversation were gone. Exterminated by the broaching of this topic. "You could have come to the funeral! Sent a card! Anything!"

"I wanted to, but I didn't think it would help. Oz died and… I didn't trust myself."

"What do you mean, 'I didn't trust myself'." Her tone implied she already knew the grating answer.

His head was back down, hung low like a lowly dog. "Cause you were feeling vulnerable and…"

"And what?" she said, her eyes accusing. "And you thought I'd be so upset I'd jump you!"

"Well," he hesitated, "not in those words. People in need or difficult positions sometimes do things they'll regret later. You know that, just as well as I do."

She paused, transforming herself in that second. "I just wanted to know you cared, that's all." 

Angel blinked, cursing for approaching the subject in the first place. His reasons of the past seemed so rational at the time. Now, in the aftermath of the argument, the passion once again distorted his logic. Just like when he managed to fool himself, for nearly a two years, that he could have some sort of future with her. He opened his eyes to see her back to him, rapidly retreating.

He called out, "Where are you going?"

"To go check on Willow!" she yelled back. "Then back to the mansion!"

As the footsteps left his presence, Angel heard a new pair nearing. He caught a glimpse of him a moment ago. He passed the runaway train know as his friend, not trying to stop her or strike up a conversation. Angel supposed that was wise. Never mess with a volatile Slayer. Every vampire knew that. He supposed Xander knew that as well.

"That's quite a way you have with the ladies there," Xander said. The cockiness of a nineteen-year-old know it all spewing with the words. "Guess you've sent more woman running for the hills in your lifetime than most men put together."

Angel wasn't in the mood for this. "What do you want, Xander?"

"Nothing. I was just on my way to the vender to get some nachos and a drink when I saw you working your charm. Thought, I'd give you friendly comment." He shook his head, "I don't think you'll be getting into her pants this time."

An anger never truly expressed grew from a suppressed region of his mind. "What the hell's the matter with you?! This isn't the time to work out you feelings of inadequacy and resentment that I represent to you! Get a life!"

Angel charged past Xander, nearly knocking the boy over with his sturdy shoulder. He should have played hockey.

Stupid kid, Angel thought.

A mutter.

"What?!" Angel barked, keeping his vision forward.

"I'm sorry!"

Angel stopped. What was he hearing? The words, coming from Xander Harris, sounded as foreign as Mother Teresa saying "What the fuck's with all these poor people?!" Angel turned, his right leg acting as the pivoting point from which all things revolved. Or just his body if you want to get technical about it.

Xander held the face of a boy forced to eat a bug by his big brother. Disgust, for the rogue and for himself, having to swallow the nauseating organism. 

"I'm sorry!" he repeated.

Angel scratched the back of his neck, working this unlikely turn of events in his mind.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's with this sudden apologetic nature?"

With his neck scrunched into down into his shoulders, that were pushed upwards and his hands pressed against an imaginary wall, Xander said, "I may have been a little harsh. Especially with 'getting in her panties' bit."

"Pants. You said getting in her pants."

"I don't know. It was some sort of crude sexual thing." He dashed towards Angel, just a few meters away. "It's just with the," he placed his hands parallel with his ears and pushed upward. "I've been feeling a little stressed. I'm not big on blood, and brains, so it's a little traumatizing. You've always been a big punching bag, so I figured what the hell. Little more mean that usual. For that, I'm sorry."

Angel smirked while the demon inside him flashed a wide, toothy grin. Delicious, just delicious.

"I'll buy you a Coke, Xander Harris," Angel said, wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulder.

Xander wriggled his way out of the loose grip. Slowly, as not to offend the 200plus vampire. "We're not that close," he said shaking his head.

Angel shrugged. "Whatever."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

"If you don't have a reflection, how are you able to get your hair so… model like?" 

"Lots and lots of practice," Angel said and patted Xander lightly on the shoulder.

Angel began his stroll down the hallway, to the only working vendors. Xander thought about it and said, "Hey, that wasn't even an answer!"

* * * *

This was as deep into the earth Everett had ever been in his life. Working in the mines, he was always left at the very top level. A blessing, his father said. Neither much liked the thought of being engulfed in all that darkness. Not after seeing a mule that had lost all it's sight after too many years down below. That was the clincher for Everett. Imagine, never seeing the sun and knowing you never will. As a vampire, he had a weird sort of admiration for that mule. Now he felt sorry for it, once again. Amazing by dying again he'd gained some sort of humanity. Even if it was just a little.

The cave wasn't completely grim. A few torches were lit, lending their ominous light to the persons. The torches sat on thin, metal stands, imbedded into the ground. Everett supposed it was the logical thing to do. The Master was down here for, what? 30, 60 years? Probably sick or minions accidentally knocking over a torch.

"Sorry, Master."

"That's not good enough!" Smack! Dead vampire.

That's an odd thought. But vampires are an odd bunch so I guess it's fitting. 

Everett heard someone approaching, rapidly. It was Ross. Everett didn't see him. In fact, he hadn't even turned around but he still knew it. Jael didn't like humans. It could have been repressed anger or just a feeling of superiority that drove him to hate that which was different. Everett never asked. Something about having a limb removed with a saw that made him feel just a tad scared. Like a child with an alcoholic father. You rarely bother him and only for the important things. Ross was the only human who's presence Jael would tolerate. It made Ross' job a lot easier, being the leader of the human majority. A figurehead for the humans to follow and look up to. Kind of like the Queen of England, only with less perks.

"What took you so long?" Everett asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

Ross was panting. Trying to catch his breath as quickly as possible. He straightened himself out and, with his hand over his chest, gasped in his last puff of air. 

"Sorry, sir," he said. "Squad 4 took awhile to check in."

"So it's done?"

"Yes, sir. Every leader has check in, they're in position and armed, sir."

"Good job. Spread the word; within the hour."

Ross nodded and ran back down the tunnel; the sword attached to his belt flapping with each stride. 

Don't run into a wall, buddy. 

That was it, the message Jael was waiting for. Down, into the cavern were all, of Jael's chosen. They were Annie, Brendan, Ceria, Rueben, Santo, Phoebe, and Gabriel, who would likely succeed second in command if Everett ever died. Still tucked in his blanket was Austin, currently being held by Gabriel. She bounced him up and down while he fed from a bottled filled with milk; still warm from being microwaved nearly a half-hour ago. Everett hoped the baby wouldn't become nauseous from all the movement and throw up all over Gabriel's robe. He doubted puke stains would be much of an intimidation factor.

The rest were moseying about, inspecting this relic of history. It was not the most comfortable place to live, but it had a certain undead, homey feeling. The spastic pillars were a nice touch. Running from the top of the spacious cavern to the bottom and burying themselves into the ground. The floor was equally treacherous. It flowed like a wave on a windy day, smooth in some parts but jagged in others. Pools of water lay at the bottom of a few of the trenches. They were shallow… but still deep enough to drown a Slayer. Everett wished they were filled with blood in the water's stead. He thought the Master had similar thoughts in all his years confined here.

Jael stood at the furthest point from Everett. Straight across and a few feet lower. He'd been standing there since they arrived, staring at the piece of wall before him and not moving in the least. 

Everett traipsed across the floor, jumping and running till he reached his destination. He stood at Jael's side but opted to say nothing. He would wait till Jael's ready.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Jael said.

"What's that?"

"Life. As a whole it's so resilient. Given a single speck an entire colony can grow and florish. But on it's own; it's so fragile. That same speck of life can be taken in an instant and be replaced the next. Completely forgotten and never to be seen from again. It makes you wonder, that's all." Jael pushed his hand against the rock, fingers fully extended. A chill seemed to run through him and he shuddered, clenching his fist. "This is where it's going to happen. I want a clear view of them when they enter." He pointed to the entrance to the cave. "I want them to see me when I achieve my destiny." 

"Sir, if I may?"

"Go on."

"Everyone is in position, and they are ready for your word."

"The vampires?"

"Still on the surface. They know where to find us, when they're ready."

Everett scanned the room. Jael was back to his fixation on the wall so Everett didn't think he'd mind. He spotted Annie at the side of the room. She was talking to Ceria. The conversation looked lighthearted based on their expressions. If both he and she somehow managed to meet as humans, Everett doubted they would have ended up together. Today it would be considered statutory rape with him being 25 and her 17 (when they died). But when he was human, he didn't see himself courting anyone more than two years younger. Something about it felt perverse. Now he felt no such reservations. She was much maturer than he was, even with his significant run on the planet. 

"Did you ever consider having children, Everett?"

Everett twirled his gaze back around. "Huh?"

"Did you ever want to have children?" Jael asked again.

Everett paused. Even with all his years of abroad discussions with Steve, this topic had never been raised. Not once.

"When I was human… I thought about it."

"Do you think she would?" Jael's gaze was in Annie's direction.

Everett had to smile at the thought. A pregnant demon, maybe they could go to K-mart to shop for baby clothes?

"I suppose she would," Everett said, still humored by the thought. "She is a girl. Maternal instincts and all."

"Well, maybe I'll make it happen for you." Everett's stare stiffened. "I will be a god, after all." He looked back to Austin. "Come now, let's begin."

With that, Everett decided that there was no way the Slayer and her friends would stop Jael. No way at all.

5

Giles had the look of a child in who just discovered the long lost Candy Land. His eyes were widened with wonder; his mouth left ajar a centimeter. He wished a few of his colleagues were with him. Buy Buffy's look, he judged she had no appreciation for the scene before them. Nearly several thousand years of history standing before them, it was something only a Watcher (or ex-Watcher) could appreciate.

"Oh, my, Buffy," Giles said, staring at the vampire across the cramped room. "That's Ali Yigit. He was involved in the Timor massacre of 1526. Oh, and that's Sanche Nehabla. He killed a Slayer in the ninth century, if I remember correctly." 

Another vampire walked in front of the duo. By the shaping of the crowd, one might assume that the duo was infected with the plague or some other transmittable disease. The lepers of the household they were; a tiny sector of the mansion that wasn't filled with some sort of conversation, most being amiable. Giles was about to comment on the passing vampire when Buffy raised her finger, silencing him.

"Buffy-"

Buffy shook her fist, which resembled an epileptic twitch. "Nope," she said, her finger still suspended in the air. "Giles, they're vampires. You're just a little to giddy for your own good."

"But-"

"No," she said firmly, never raising her voice. "No more discussion of the achievements of any of the undead. No more, 'He almost raised a Kreit demon'. No more, 'He killed a Master vampire'. And certainly no more, 'She nearly opened the Hellmouth'. You got me?"

Giles nodded reluctantly. Candy Land was gone and he was left to sulk, his lips slightly pouted. 

Giles felt a tap on his chest. His wandering mind settled back to the current situation and saw Buffy pointing to the token conference breaking up. The huddle between Sinister, Burlson, and Adabasi was coming to and end. Adabasi left to another group while Sinister whispered something into Burlson's ear and sent his off, presumably on an errand.

Sinister, seeing the inquisitive gaze of the Watcher and the annoyed stare of the Slayer, decided to fill them in on the developments. Provoked more on the annoyance than the latter.

"So?" Giles asked. "Any news?"

"There have been at least seven sightings and four dead vampires." Sinister could see that they weren't yet satisfied so he continued. "One fella tried to confront a group of the humans. Supposively, he was half-blitzed and in his drunkin state he met with the sharp end of a sword. Name was Lyle Gorch."

"Of the Gorch brothers?" Buffy asked, obviously curious.

"You heard of them?"

"I killed his wife," Buffy said opting to be blunt.

"Oh," Sinister responded. "Good for you. After that another group of vampires came along and this time they were met with bullets and then the sword. Turns out they all had guns but only one had a sword."

"What do you make of it, Giles?"

Giles pulled off his glasses and went blank, setting the end of the rim of his glasses between his teeth. "You say they were just walking the streets?"

"Yup," Sinister answered. "All they would do is troll and then head down a manhole."

Giles slid the rim of the glasses back on the hinges of his ears. "The way you describe it, marching through the streets, flaunting a weapon, ignoring those who they don't consider an immediate threat, it sounds like a defy."

"Defy?"

"An invitation to come fight," Giles said to Buffy. "They're letting us know where they are. And the sword may just be they're way of saying what weapon they'll be using."

"Yes."

Standing across the room was the vampire who uttered the word. If he were human, Buffy would have said he looked prematurely aged by hardship. His voice was husky and low. He had a receding hairline, and wrinkles dragging down his face. Still, Buffy got a sense that the man was no more then 30 when he was turned. She guessed he felt much older than that when he met with a vampire's fangs.

The three hadn't noticed it till now, but the room was completely quiet. The room slowly drifted to silence as the three talked, like a glacier slowly melting away. Not really flagrant, but if brought to your attention, you're amazed by how it's changed. Similar a morning mist, the importance of the conversation dawned on the vampires. Sinister, their self appointed leader, and the Slayer, the only one who seemed to know what was going on, conversing. Paying attention was the obvious thing to do. 

Playtime is over, kiddies. It's time to get down to the fucking business at hand.

The aged vampire continued, "It's as the Old Ones used to do. They'd dare their enemies and then lead them to a battlefield. There, on equal ground, they'd fight. One on one till the death. It's direct and the honorable way to fight."

"Bullshit!" another vampire exclaimed. "Fuck this 'honorable' crap. Let's just grab some guns and kill them. Now that's direct!"

A rouse of cheers went off from the vampires. The vampire looked absolutely blissful at the fact her suggestion was so wildly accepted. Buffy, on the other hand, had an urge to introduce the vampire to Mr. Pointy. Giles shared her perspective while Sinister had reservations for the vampire's plan. Mob rule would not win this fight.

"Shut the fuck up!" a vampire bawled. The crowd quickly quieted at the call of the harsh voice. Buffy recognized him as one of the first vampires to arrive. His name was James or Kirk, someone in Metallica. "You're a fucking idiot!" Lars screamed at the vampire. "Don't you see! This is our chance! We can finally gain some respect from the demon community!" Lars stared at the crowd, not addressing anyone directly but the vampires as a whole. "We're a laughing stock! Even the Fungus Demons are laughing at us. 'Ha, ha, they're afraid of crosses. Ha, ha, they're killed by sunlight. Ha, fucking ha, they got their asses kicked by a derivative of their own FUCKING RACE! We have no respect with our peers at all! The only reason she's a 'Vampire Slayer' is because we can increase our numbers easily," he said pointing at Buffy. "If the Larkros could create more of their own kind with such ease, the humans would be fucked!"

"Giles?"

"They're a particularly ferocious demon that can grow claws out of its fingers and can usually decapitate its victim in a single swipe." 

"Nice," Buffy said, picturing life as a 'Larkros Slayer'.

"Fuck taking the easy way out. I mean, never using guns was always a part of being a vampire that made it fun. The challenge of hand to hand combat," Lars gushed, "there is no greater feeling. I say we do this right. I say we prove to the world that there is no greater demon than the vampire!" The crowd responded with a hushed yeah. "I say we go down there, we play it by their rules, and show them who's the superior blood sucking being." More vampires responded with a yeah, this time. "We're going to go down there and kick their pansy asses who refer to themselves with such a stupid name as 'the Daywalkers'."

"Yeah!"

"FUCKING RIGHT ON!"

"YEAH!" the crowd screamed unanimously.

Through the eruption of joy and cheering, Buffy heard Giles whisper (or what seemed like a whisper), "Okay, I'm now officially afraid."

You and me both. 

Buffy gazed at Sinister. The cat that ate the canary, that's what he looked like. A gleeful smirk stretched across his face. The events were turning out just the way he wanted. Maybe mob rule wasn't so bad after all?

He moved over to Buffy and leaned closer, his mouth just a few centimeters from her ear. "I'll get them under control," he said. "They're already headed in the right direction and all they need is someone to lead them the rest of the way." 

Ego much? 

"I'll arm them up with some good weapons and get them ready," Sinister continued. "You just give me the word and we'll move out. We're nearing the end, Buff. Are you excited?"

* * * *

Back at the Master's lair, the wave of noise gave way to a steady chant. Jael, throwing his voice to its lowest mold, was performing it. It was an odd picture. The towering man on his hands and knees, speaking in a sort of prayer to the wall before him. It was an odd dialect, spoken with the click of the tongue as much as the vocal box. Forming a semicircle behind and beside him were his followers, all watching with frightened curiosity. All except for Gabriel, who was too busy trying to keep Austin from fusing. 

And then there was Everett. Everett really didn't care to watch the performance. The nervous energy he felt had to be released, and standing in one spot and staring with aloof eyes wasn't going to do it. Now he was left to circle the cave in an endless trek until the deed was done.

Bringing forth Armageddon always made Everett feel uneasy. Though, it wasn't the impending doom as much as the coming battle. In a few minutes Jael would be finished the ritual and the real fun would begin. 

The ritual itself was simple enough. Jael ran through the entire plan a mere day before they set off on the trip back to Sunnydale. Only Naeem was allowed privy to the information beforehand. 

It struck Everett as brash. Jael was taking a lot of risks. But, in a sense, maybe it was his reward, a reward for all of them? After so many years of lurking and learning to discipline themselves, it was time to step up and show their superiority. Either that or he was fucking insane.

After this, for a little under an hour or so, they would be at their most vulnerable. Jael believed that many of the humans would die in the time frame. And it was a fact not lost on them. It all came back to the promise he made around 2800 years ago. 

"Follow me and on my day of ascension, all those of true faith shall be resurrected and live out their days at my side."

Everett wasn't sure if he meant it or not. But, he wouldn't put it past the big guy when he came back to that "fucking insane" thought.

"What's going on over there?"

Everett whispered this as the thundering voice hit him. It was Jael. He was nearing the end. 

His body jerked up and down. His elbows pressed against the rock one second and in the air the next. From across the cavern, Everett saw that he was holding an object. A glass, similar to a wine bottle but with a spiraling design on it's surface. At the top, it started with the light colors. Then, like a plummet to hell, it became dark. The whites and yellows gave way to oranges, then reds, and then black. It carried life to death on its veneer and was meant to hold them.

Everett watched as the other watched, with dismayed focus. He slowly began to creep his way back to the group, ever being cautious of his movements as well as Jael's. There was no need to disturb Jael, in any way! 

Jael's body was caught in a violent spasm. It looked as if his back had become rubber or would snap at any second. Suddenly, he stopped. He looked towards the sky and screamed, "I SHALL BE ONE!!!" His arms went limp and dropped the glass from its pointed position and became adjacent with his heart. "Now," he said.

Gabriel rushed to his side, holding an alert Austin. From his other side came Annie. She held out her hands flat and on them lay a knife. Everett recognized it as the knife Naeem had used to kill her once upon a time. Jael took the knife and handed her the bottle.

"Here it comes."

Jael held out his hand level with the knife upright. Unflinching, he slid the knife through his hand. Once the handle hit the wall of flesh he pulled in out as easily as he put it in.

"Bring him," Jael commanded.

Gabriel knelt from her standing position. Everett found himself standing behind the fence of followers, watching history in the making. Jael gently took the cradled boy's hand. Austin looked on inquisitively. But then everything was new to him. Why should this have been any different? 

Jael grazed the palm of Austin's hand with the tainted blade. Austin's cry escaped just as the wound opened, emptying his blood to the infinite space. 

"There, there," Jael said in his best comforting voice. It didn't help.

Then came the pivotal moment of both their lives. Jael took the boy's hand and pressed in into the pool that had gathered out of his own torn palm. With that, it was mixed. Life and death, together, and slowly dripping into the receptacle held below to catch it. Second by second, it filled.

"Enough," Jael said. 

Gabriel pulled the bawling Austin away from Jael. His face was flustered and the tears streamed freely. Everett, nor Gabriel, could take their eyes away from the hand of the boy, splattered with a thick coat of blood as if it were a sauce for him to eat.

"There, there, baby. There, there," Gabriel whispered, bouncing the boy up and down, as she did earlier.

Jael dropped the knife to the floor and took the bottle from Annie. She flinched from the brisk movement and then scrambled back to her place amongst her peers.

He shook the bottle, never taking his eyes from the outline of fluid swishing at its bottom. It was only a centimeter, and most of it belonged to him, but it didn't matter. It would be enough. It had to be.

Jael rose to his feet and the group was taken back by this movement. They all nearly took a step back, retreating from a volatile leader. But, they opted not to, in an unconscious collective decision to see this thing out. 

The figure stared at his hand. The wound had already closed and only the damp blood remained as evidence of its being. Jael looked back at the bottle. Soon his blood would begin to harden and break down, never to be seen again. Natures way of protecting its children from infection by the blood of the undead. He closed his eyes, thought a good thought, and tossed the bottle against the wall.

The bottle smashed easily. Buckling from the immense pressure of Jael's casual throw and the unyielding state of the ancient rock. For a moment, they crowd saw the blood. They watched it escape its cage and then collide with the hardened surface. Then they watched it disappear.

First came the flash, a brilliant picture of pure light that illuminated every crevasse of the room. Coinciding was a wind that pulled at the people. For a second, the hair and clothes of the group fluttered in the breeze. 

"Wow," Everett managed to mutter.

The reality of the wall was out of flux. First it pulled itself inward, resembling an elastic band. It snapped back and then propelled itself forward. The crowd was too taken to even attempt to dash back. Like before, it snapped back to its original place.

Jael watched as the portal took its shape. It was his height, and twice his width. The placid, brown rock was replaced by blackness. It curled in a relentless circle. It dawdled, but Jael could see it was steadily increasing its pace. By the end, it would be at a fever.

"Yes," Jael said. "It's capricious right now, but soon, it will solidify. The Time Stream will be open to us and with his death," Jael pointed to Austin, "it will die with him."

"Jael?"

"Yes, Gabriel?"

"The child's hand?"

Jael was silent for a moment. "Oh, yes, bandage it. He must be safe until the sacrifice." Jael smiled. "He will be mine and die by my hand. No one will take him from me."

The bliss kept and Jael turned to the twirling nexus. The color was already shifting. 

6

There were two of them in the room. Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg, friends for longer than either could remember and caught in another difficult situation. Now, at the threshold of another life shattering night, Xander Harris has decided to speak his mind.

"Okay, so I guess it's like this, Will. I love you. There, said it. Nothing I can do about it now," Xander sighed. It was done, but more had to be said. He pressed on with a silent Willow in front of him. "You see, the thing is, I always envisioned telling you this is some sort of special way. A romantic way, you might say. Maybe not candlelight and the bright moon shinning over our heads, but in a way that would seem right. But I guess romance and Xander Harris have never exactly messed well together," he said with a chuckle, thinking of his trysts with Anya and Faith. 

"Oh, and why am I telling you this? It dawned on me today that we'd never have a fresh start. We'll never, ever, have a clean slate to start over from. And there's that end of the world thing, but that's just a catalyst for this," he said smirking. "And I just wanted to tell you why I've been more or less… distant these past few months. The truth is a part of me felt happy when Oz died. Wow, I feel like such a bastard saying that. Sure it's just a tiny part of me but it's true. So instead of moving into total bastardom and try to fill Oz's place in your life, I decided to stay away. Keep my presence felt and hang out with you but not trying to get too close. Now, I don't care about that anymore. I just want to be with you. I'm going to stay by your side till the end." He paused. "I've always loved you, Will, I was just never very comfortable with it."

"Mmmmm."

Xander stopped breathing. Willow was stirring in her sleep. Xander's mind took off.

Oh god, please don't let her have heard anything I said. 

The pinch of fear gave way to worry. She was having a nightmare. She had to be. Her face scrunched up, reflecting the pain or fear she was feeling. She dug her nails into the blanket that warmed her. She clawed at it. This was no ordinary dream.

A vowel left her lips. What was she dreaming of? "Au… Austin!"

She bolted from her sleep to a sitting position. She had gone from deep sleep to completely awake in a few seconds. Xander's mind suddenly became very quiet. This was it… the sign.

"Will?"

"I felt him," she said frankly. "He's in pain." Her eyes tinged with tears. That maternal instinct was kicking in.

The familiar twist of the door handle was heard. Moving through the doorway, Angel said, "So, how's she… doing?"

"I felt him," Willow continued, on the verge of tears. "He was in pain. His hand… it hurt so much. Then it was gone."

"What? What was gone?" Angel asked.

"The connection," Willow said looking Angel dead faced. "I felt him and then he was gone. It's started."

"Jesus," Angel said, his voice hushed with fear. "I'll call Buffy." He was caught in mid-step by a thought. He turned back to voice it. "Where's Liam?"

"Giles'," Xander answered. "He went there awhile ago with Amy."

"Okay," Angel said, slightly displeased. "I'll call Buffy and then I'll call them."

He closed the door with a click when he left the room, trapped in an uneasy silence. 

What do I do now? 

"Xander," Willow said, her voice reminiscent of a mouse's.

"Yeah," Xander answered with enthusiasm. 

"I feel cold."

"You want me to find you another blanket?" Xander asked, eager to do something.

"No, could I just have your jacket?"

"Sure thing, Will." 

Xander walked to the far side of the room where his jacket lay flimsily on the floor. Beside it was the hat that he told Buffy he would wear. Its ragged appearance was not the reason he chose not to don it. It was the fact that no person in authority showed any interest in the whereabouts of Xander Harris. Not to his knowledge, anyway.

"You want the hat, too? It may be old, but I hear you loose seventy percent of your body heat through your head," Xander said with a smile.

"No thanks," Willow answered, trying not to sound so downtrodden. 

"Alright, but you're missing out on wearing a relic even older than some of the things Giles owns."

Xander picked up the denim jacket and moved back over to the bed. He wrapped it over the bulge of blanket and Willow, sitting nearly vertical thanks to several pillows.

"Better?"

"Kinda," Willow responded.

"Well, you'll feel better soon. It'll will all be okay in a little while."

Willow's voice went cold. "Will it?" 

Xander was caught off guard. How was he supposed to answer that?

"Willow, I know things may seem down right now-"

"No you don't!" she snapped. "You don't know what I felt."

"Why don't you tell me then?" Xander said, challenging her. He didn't want to upset her but he had to. She had to let it out.

"It felt like he died," she said softly.

"What? No! They still need him, Will. You said so yourself."

"I know but… I was there with him. I was feeling everything he was feeling. I was with my baby."

I'm so sorry, Will. 

"Then it he was gone. Now I feel so empty." She paused and sniffled, wiping the festering tears from her eyes. "I can't loose him. I don't think I could live if I lost him."

With that she began to cry. Harder and longer than she had in the entire crippling day. The cloth covering Xander's shoulder would be saturated in a few minutes but he didn't mind. He was there and that was all that mattered. It was all that mattered in the world.

* * * *

Damn. 

Liam slammed the heavy book shut. At the time, he didn't care much to treat it with the same courtesy and respect that Giles would have opted for. It was useless. They all were. How many books had he already leafed through? Fifteen? Twenty? It was really just a haze now of ink drawing facts, persons, and dates that held no meaning to him. Yesterday, or any of other day beforehand, he would have loved this. Having nothing to do but read. Read and fill his insatiable hunger for information that stemmed from a very particular place in his mind.

Most of these books he had already read through once, maybe even twice? He couldn't really remember now. He was too focused. It was a focus that drove him to double-check each book. Even if he had a good idea of what it held, and what it didn't. Still, he now knew what to find… the Vymri Cerln. And odds were they weren't going to be listed in the table of contents.

Before this, he usually left most of his heavy reading to one particular time. 

He couldn't sleep. Not really anyway. Which was good in some ways. He was able to help out Buffy in her usually uneventful patrols. They were mostly confined to chitchat. Talking about how school was going for her, how he was adjusting, and generally trying to make themselves appear helpless. Nine times out of ten it didn't work. The other time, the fight would usually end quickly. 

The other nights, if not on a loner's patrol, he would be in bed, not sleeping. He tried, he really did. But the most he could get out of his eight hours was a usually three. They were a deep three hours and for that he was grateful.

Of the other five hours, at least three and a half were used more productive. Sitting in his bed and with one of Willow's old lamps to guide him, (the three faded Sesame Street stickers plastered to it's frame always made Liam smile) he would lay a book on his lap and read.

It was a quiet time. His time to immerse himself in Giles' old books. And through the mirror of past instances, maybe he'd see himself. Anything that would show where his origins lay. Though, it was always an afterthought, something that could be placed on the back burner. Confident in the knowledge that somehow, some way, it would be solved. 

That philosophy was gone. Eradicated by the knowledge that there may never be a tomorrow. Today was all that was left and he needed to find his answers. He had to.

"You find anything?" Amy asked from the rigid piece of furniture that comprised Giles' couch.

"Nope." 

That said, Liam tossed the ragged book onto the ever-growing pile to his right. From his cross-legged sitting position, he took another book from the shelf's bottom. Amy, on the other hand, wasn't such a glutton from punishment. She took the most comfortable place in the living room. Though, Giles' stone couch was called a lot of things, but hardly ever comfortable. 

Scattered around the coffee table was the evidence of their research cram. Empty Coke cans, chip bags, and of course, books. Lots of books, but not as many as Liam's pile. She didn't know whether to contribute it to the fact that she wasn't as familiar as Liam was with the works in question (her specialty was wiccan text), or some sort of demon thing that had to do with his eyes or how he processed the information. She doubted he knew either.

Finished with the book, she placed in gently onto the floor alongside the other read volumes. On the coffee table were the virgin texts. At least eleven there were, stacked on top of each other in rows of three. She shuddered at the thought of tackling the actual shelf… where the big books were.

Just one more and then I'm heading back, Amy thought to herself. But it was a thought she had over an hour ago, and she was still at Giles'. 

In truth, she thought this was a lost cause. If they were going to find something, she doubted that the scarce information they were looking for would be in a librarian's apartment. Granted he was a Watcher, but something this big had to be locked in a tomb or something. If this Jael guy was as bad as everyone was making him out to be, she doubted he would just leave useful information, even if it may just be helpful to one opponent, floating around to be found. Disinformation and destruction, she was sure it had to be an army slogan.

Whenever thoughts of leaving entered her mind, they left almost instantaneously. All she had to do was look at him, reading his book, and she knew this was where he had to be. This was now his quest. And sure she only hung out with him a few times over the months, but what kind of friend would she be if she chose to abandon him now? Besides, he was kind of cute.

I need to go to the bathroom, Amy thought and made her way through the apartment into the hallway. She doubted Liam would take note of her absence and she was right. He continued thumb through the thin book, scanning each page with a furious curiosity. 

A few minutes later she returned and sat back down with an uneventful plop. Liam hadn't noticed that either. Oh well, suppose I'll make myself useful. She picked up the book that sat halfway over the edge of the table. After making herself as comfy as possible, she opened the frail paperback to its beginning. But rather than proceed unknowing, she decided to briefly look over its entire contents.

It was similar to the previous readings. Listings, summaries, and histories of various demons that managed to terrorize humanity throughout the years. It didn't have illustrations to Amy's disappointment. They may have been grotesque, but they were always interesting.

As she neared the end, the sequencing suddenly shifted. It turned from logical writings to unintelligible abstracts. They covered the pages from top to bottom and looked amazing in their detail. Some were circular in their design, while others were totally random.

Maybe they're demon 'magic eyes', Amy thought humorously. Though, for all she knew, it may have been.

She backtracked, looking for the particular page where this change occurred. Eventually, she found it. It started after a single blank page, bearing a single sentence at its top. Only she didn't know what it said. Latin was never her forte. 

"Hey, Liam, you want to take a look at this?"

Internally she smiled that she finally managed to break him out of his daze. He looked at her with halfhearted eyes and said, "Alright."

With a snap of the wrist, she flung the book across the room. It spiraled until Liam clamped down onto the air, catching it. 

"Good catch."

"Thanks."

Could he be any more lethargic? Amy thought to herself.

Meanwhile Liam began fingering through the pages. His expression held the reflection of a man nearing the end of his rope. Sitting and reading for hours on end had sucked the life out of him. But still, he continued forward.

Then, animation crept into his face. First in splinters. His eyes became heightened, focused on this new, fascinating information. Amy noticed his lips flex as he swallowed the saliva flowing through his mouth. She could have sworn he mouthed, "Oh Jesus."

"This is it," he whispered. "Oh man, this is it! THIS IS IT!" He leapt from his sitting position, nearly reaching the ceiling. In midair, he yelled, "YES!" 

Upon reaching the ground, he rushed over to Amy and gave her a bear hug, lifting her from the couch and the floor. Amy let out a grunt as the felt the strain on her ribs.

Liam dropped her back to the ground, making sure to avoid the coffee table and couch.

"Sorry," he said, looking her over to see if she was hurt.

"No prob," she responded convulsively, aching slightly. "So… good news?"

Oh, why did I have to ask that? 

"The best," he said, a wide grin slit across his face. "Uhm, do you have any conjuring supplies?"

The grin slit across her face in return. "Does Michael Jackson own bleach?" He looked at her confused, unsure what to make of the statement. "Never mind, we'll head to my place," she said still smiling.

"Good." 

The two collected their things and headed out the door, making sure to lock it behind them. Amy was happy to be on the move. So happy that she never thought to ask Liam what he had read or seen in the book. A moment later the phone rang.

* * * *

"Yes… are you sure she's okay? Okay, well, thanks for the call." Giles snapped the cell phone shut and placed the thin communicator into his breast pocket. He turned to Buffy, sitting on the slanted hill. "Well, it's started."

Buffy's smile was brief. "Kind of figured that."

Giles nodded with a smirk and sat down beside her, grunting as he set himself down. 

"Having a little trouble there," Buffy teased.

"Nothing you won't have when you reach my age."

"If I live that long," Buffy commented solemnly.

"Yes… I suppose you're right about that one."

Good work, Rupert. It's good to remind her that she has a relatively short life span. 

Giles watched another car pass them on the road, at the foot of the cramped hill. He doubted the passengers noticed them. The darkness shrouded them beyond detection. That was one of the reasons Giles decided to take the call outside (Buffy found it amazing that he bought a cell phone before her), a few minutes walk from the mansion. He thought Buffy would want to take a moment to talk with Angel without the roaring of the vampires seeping through the receiver. Surprisingly, neither was interested in talking to one another. 

The visitors of the household were another matter when it came to prudence. He was glad they had chosen such a remote part of town to be the base of operations. If located a half-mile closer, it was probable they would attract undesired attention. That is, if they hadn't already. With the noise and number of cars parked alongside the road, it was Woodstock all over again.

God, that was an awful lot of mud, Giles thought with remembrance. 

Thankfully the vampires possessed enough restraint to not give the police any valid excuse to make an inquiry. He didn't want to see how they would react to such obvious figures of human authority.

"Do you want to go back now," Giles asked, wondering if was catching a chill not wearing a jacket.

"Not just yet. I want to enjoy this first… the silence." After a few seconds, she let out an exasperated sigh.

"I take it you're not looking forward to formulating a plan with Sinister and his cohorts?"

"Actually, no. Me and Sinister already came up with a plan that they're going to _love_," she said with a sour smirk. "He's probably already picked up what's going on and is preparing them."

"How? We don't even know where they're stationed?"

"Think of it, Giles. You're in their position, and you totally want to unnerve your enemies. Where would you want to set up?"

The answer came to Giles instantly. "The Master's former lair."

"See, I knew you a Watcher for some reason," she grinned. "No, the vamps will follow Sinister easily, if not just to finally fight. The fight is what I'm dreading." She paused, looking up to the glimmering moon. "So many people are going to die and some are going to be killed by me. Doesn't that kinda go against everything I stand for," she asked with honest sincerity.

"It kind of does," Giles answered hastily. Buffy didn't look pleased. "Just remember, it doesn't take a demon for… a thing to be evil," he stuttered. "It only has to be willing. You remember that when you're down there."

Buffy smiled. That pleased her, in a weird way. "Let's go then. Time's a wasting." The two got up and skidded down the slope. "This is it. The whole enchilada. The final battle between evil and… not so evil. That's right, I'm excited."

* * * *

Amasa sat in the dark, unable to see a thing. For this was not a normal dark, it was _his_ dark. So thick that you could actually feel it if you chose to run your hand through its mass. Not even the sun could find its way through, if he chose to acknowledge it. But Amasa did not; to be distracted was not a welcome sensation. Not when the plan was so close to finale. 

He closed his eyes, retreating from the dark, and entered their world.

It was all so vivid. The Slayer was on the move, Jael was preparing, the girl was waiting, and Liam was… he was searching. He had just found the book and was now on the next stage of his quest. But he was troubled. The inscription, Dead Eyes Can See, what did it mean? And why could he see the writing so clearly when Amy couldn't?

The crusade was inherent, to prepare him. If Amasa told Liam his real purpose at this point, he wasn't sure how he'd react? Fear, dread, hate, all were bound to afflict the boy. What path he would decide to take, that was the real question. No, he would have to bide his time. This day had been planned since the day of Liam's birth, nearly twenty years ago. 

The board was set, the players on their sides. Now it was time for destiny to take its hold and decide the outcome.

To be concluded… 

* * * *

Notice any problems, then send me an email and I'll fix it. Doesn't include grammar mistakes, too many of those for me to fix. I'm a lazy, lazy, impatient man who writes by one credo. 'If it looks snazy, it's good'. 


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